Rites of Passage

Beneath the Ancient Sun

We sat around the glow-coals and Old Tan, our Storyteller, told us about the time when water filled the valleys and people lived on the mountaintops.

“Millions of people,” he said in a whisper.

“But what is millions?” I asked.

Old Kahl, who was respected for his wisdom, said, “Pick up two handfuls of sand, Par, and let the sand trickle to the floor. That is a million.”

Dutifully I scooped up two handfuls of fine sand and felt the grains squirm from my grip. But I could not imagine that each grain was a person. “Surely it was impossible,” I said. “So many people could not exist.”

Old Tan was exaggerating, of course; he was known to make great claims to enhance his tales. For the next hour he told of mountain peaks that had teemed with people, of valleys filled with more water than could be imagined.

“But how do you know?” Kenda asked with his usual arrogance. He was a big-boned youth a winter my senior, who hated me — and for good reason.

Old Tan shook his head and said, “Long ago Old Old Old Marla, my mother’s mother’s mother, told of her Initiation. She did not go Below, but Above.”

I was aware of the sudden silence that greeted his words. I looked around at the fifty dark faces in the feeble light of the glow-coals. They were all staring at Old Tan, eyes wide, many mouths hanging open in wonder. Beside me, Nohma gripped my hand. I could see her teeth in the glow, smiling at me in excitement.

“And what did she find?” someone asked.

We knew, of course; Old Tan had told the tale many times before. I recall my disbelief the first time I had heard the story; the wonder and the thrill. It had made me aware that there was more to our world than just the Valleys, the Caves and the Bottoms.

“Old Old Old Marla found dwellings high up on the mountaintops, places where the ancient people lived.”

“But didn’t she burn to death!” a youngster exclaimed.

Old Tan smiled. “She wore crab-shells during the twilight hours, and travelled only at night.”

“But the people who dwelled on the mountaintops many, many winters ago — surely they would have burned to death!”

“This was many, many thousands upon thousands of winters ago,” Old Tan said, “The world was cooler then. Our people could live on the mountaintops in safety.”

Our people?

“But how did Old Old Old Marla reach the mountaintops?” someone else asked.

Old Tan smiled. “She climbed,” he said.

“But how! The mountains are steep! And crabs patrol the slopes!”

“She made her way through the upper plain,” Old Kahl said, “where our people lived many winters ago, before we came down here. From the upper plain she climbed to the eastern valley. From there she picked her way through mountain passes to a far away escarpment.”

“And the crabs?” I asked, even though I knew full well how Old Old Old Marla had escaped being nipped in half and eaten.

Old Tan took up the tale: “She took a live goat, and sacrificed it to the first crab. And then, while it was eating, she climbed onto a high rock and, with her sharpened staff, jumped onto the back of the crab. Her weight drove the staff through the creature’s shell, killing it instantly. Old Old Old Marla and her companions ate well that night, but set aside some crab meat to bait other crabs they might meet in the days ahead.”

“And at the top?” a child asked.

“At the top she found dwellings, and…”

“Go on!” we chanted.

“And she found people still living within the ruins of the dwelling places.”

We who had heard the tale many times before smiled as Old Tan said this, for we knew it to be an exaggeration — or call it a lie — with which he spiced the stew of his story.

“She found small blackened people, burned by the sun, who did not need water to survive. They stared at her for a long time, but did not have the power of speech, these poor people, and then they moved off and disappeared. And that is the end of her story, as she once told me.”

“But what became of Old Old Old Marla?”

Old Tan smiled. “She became a skilled Waterwoman, and gave birth to my mother’s mother, and lived a long and productive life. She now gives life to a pearly tree on the Goat Skull Terrace. Its marker bears her name.”

Not long after this the meeting broke up, and I scuttled back to my hollow. Nohma snuggled in beside me and we made love, and later I stared into the absolute darkness and thought about Old Old Old Marla and the people who had dwelled on the mountaintops.

At twilight that evening, as the sun went down and the stars showed in a long bright strip of night sky between the high canyon walls, we made our way up to Goat Skull Terrace and toiled. Nohma tended the cacti, cutting slices for the communal meal later that day, and I allotted precious water to the pearly trees.

Nohma was excited. She danced between the spiky plants. Her big eyes shone in the light of the stars.

Tomorrow we were to be interviewed by the Elders, and we would choose our Initiation. Nohma was still undecided: would it be the Bottoms for her, following the trail of a thousand Initiates before her, or more daringly the Eastern Valleys? I had decided to join her in whichever path she chose, but now I was having second thoughts.

I moved along the row of pearly trees, tipping a skull-full of water over the gnarly roots of each plant. I could almost hear their relief, and imagined them begging for a little more. These days the trees were looking thin and tired, and every harvest they gave fewer fruits.

I had been a Farmer for five winters now, and in that time I had watched the land we tended become less and less. Five winters ago we had farmed all the way up to the high Terraces, but that soil had become dry and useless over time, and our crops had withered and died, and then had not grown at all. So we had moved further down the slope, farming land that bore the brunt of the midday sun, but which had not been farmed before. Now that land produced fruit, but wise heads wondered for how much longer. I tried to think of life without the occasional app and pearly, but the very notion frightened me.

I carried water along the row of a hundred pearly trees, and when I reached halfway I rested.

I looked down the valley, and the beauty of the sight brought tears to my eyes. The land was silver in the moonlight, marked by fields and Terraces. And in the valley my people worked tirelessly, all fifty of them, men and women and children, tiny figures bent and busy. I imagined our people toiling in the canyon like this for a hundred winters, a thousand, and the thought reassured me. If we had been here that long, then we would be here, working the land, for a thousand winters to come.

I sat and leaned against Old Old Old Marla’s pearly tree, reached out and touched the marker that bore her name. She had been alive long before my birth, and had defied convention and climbed the mountain to the very top. The thought of it stirred some strange emotion deep within me.

“Wake up, Par!” Nohma said, dancing up to me and cuffing my head. She dropped down beside me and said, “It didn’t really happen, you know.”

“What didn’t?”

“Old Old Old Marla’s adventure. Old Tan made it up. You know how he lies.”

“That’s not true. We’ve all heard Old Old Old Marla’s story many times before.”

Nohma looked at me, her head tipped sideways. “So that makes it true, does it?”

“But why would he lie?”

“To entertain us, to scare us. To make us glad that we live safe lives in the Valley and the Caves.” She paused, then said, “I recall the first time I heard it, when you were still a babe in arms. The story was different then. Old Old Old Marla did not kill a crab — she ran away from it. And she didn’t meet blackened people on the mountaintop. All she saw was skeletons and skulls.”

I stared at her, aghast. “But why would Old Tan make these things up?”

“To make his story more interesting, Par. More frightening. More entertaining. You must admit, everyone was wide-eyed and breathless during its telling.”

I shook my head and stared up the slope of the far valley wall. It climbed and climbed until the high edge became a dark line against the star-filled night sky. “There must be things up there. Things we can’t even dream about.”

She shrugged. “They don’t matter, Par. All that matters is the Valley, the Caves, the Bottoms.”

Her words made me angry, even though they had come from the girl I loved. “No!” I said.

Nohma sighed, and called down to the next terrace where Kenda cut dead branches from app trees. I tried to stop her while the shout was still on her lips, but not in time. “Kenda! Join us for a rest. Talk some sense into Par, here!”

I boiled with frustration at her invitation. I disliked Kenda. He had loved Nohma before me, being the same age as her, until they had argued and she had chosen me. I feared that one day she might be tempted back to him. He was older than me by two winters, and stronger.

He climbed to our terrace and stood before us, his very posture arrogant. “I’d have difficulty talking sense into Par’s thick skull.”

“Tell him that Old Old Old Marla didn’t really kill a crab and meet blackened people on the mountaintop, Kenda.”

He looked at me. “He thinks that? He believes the lies Old Tan tells? Then you’re a bigger fool than you look, Par.”

I wanted to hit his big smug face, as he stretched out before us, smiling at Nohma. Instead I said, “I suppose you think there’s nothing up there? No dwellings of the old people, no strange blackened beings still living on the mountaintops?”

Kenda stared at me as if I were not worth the effort of arguing with. “Grow up, Par,” he said.

I looked at Nohma. She was smiling to herself. I felt something nasty squirm within my chest, a hatred of everyone, but more than that a hatred of myself.

I stood quickly, picked up my waterskin and returned to work.

Day came.

The heat in the valley bottom increased so that soon it was hard to breathe. Overhead the stars were replaced by white light. The sun blistered over the edge of the canyon, striking the far valley and turning the upper, abandoned terraces to molten gold.

We fled underground, to the cool refuge of the Caves. We shared a communal meal of sliced cacti, a sliver of crab meat each and a cup of pearly-flavoured water as the temperature dropped and we sat around the glow-coals.

Old Tan told of how the first Waterwoman — who wasn’t a Waterwoman back then, of course, just a woman — entered the Caves and descended and eventually found water — a cavern full of the cool, life-giving liquid. He told how she, and the team she led, stood at the edge of the cavern illuminated by the glow-coals they carried, and stared at the silken expanse of water.

He told of how the Waterwoman took a step forward, her advance held in check by her fear that the water would be salted.

She took another step forward, and knelt, and reached out a cupped palm. She dipped her hand in the water and slowly, slowly, watched breathlessly by her fellows, raised the water to her lips and took a tiny, experimental sip.

He told of how she stopped, then stood and looked back at her team and said, weeping, “We are saved, my friends.”

All around me a great cheer went up as fifty throats rejoiced at the very first Waterwoman’s triumph.

“And that,” said Old Tan, “was long ago, over three hundred winters gone.”

I leaned over and whispered to Nohma, “And I suppose you’re going to tell me that that never happened, too?”

She found my thigh and dug her nails into my skin, hard.

Later the gathering broke up and I moved to my sleeping hollow — but Nohma was a long time following me. I lay staring into the darkness, my thoughts racing dangerously, until I heard a breath and felt Nohma’s naked skin press against mine.

“Where have you been?” I hissed.

She did not reply immediately, then said, “To Kenda, to see what he has decided about his Initiation.”

“And what is he doing?” I asked, slipping a finger between her legs to reassure myself that Kenda had not been there before me. Her slit was dry and my heart hammered with relief.

She said, “As I expected, he’s descending Below, but to the western system.”

“And you?” I asked, rubbing her.

She hesitated. “I’ve not decided yet. You?”

“Yes, I’ve decided.”

She took my stalk and slipped it into her. “Tell me.”

“No,” I said, and we made love.

The Elders were three: Old Kahl, Old Jemma, and Old Old Theka, who was so old she was just a bag of bones propped against the rock. Moonlight made their flesh seem even older, etched with deep lines and fissures.

A dozen Initiates sat before the Elders, awed and silent.

Behind us, filling the terrace, our people sat and waited.

Old Jemma told the story of the First Initiate. This was long, long ago when our people lived on the mountaintop, she said, and youths on the cusp of adulthood descended into the valleys to bring back crab meat and so prove themselves.

Now we did not have to return with crab-meat — that was the job of the Meat-Farmers, who scoured the valleys for stray animals and penned them and reared their young. Nowadays Initiates were sent out to prospect for new water courses Below, or sent to the far Valleys to search for edible plants that might be brought back and cultivated.

Then Old Old Theka, in a voice cracked and almost inaudible, said, “One by one stand and say your name, and answer Old Kahl’s question.”

I sat cross-legged, my heart hammering. I wondered if I would have the courage to go through with what I intended when my name was called. I carried the knowledge within me, burning like a dangerous flame.

The first Initiate was called, and she stood before the Elder and said her name.

“And what is your decision, Valla?” asked Old Kahl.

“I will venture Below, to search the eastern system,” Valla said, and a cheer went up from the watchers.

One by one we were called, and the tightness in my chest became almost unbearable.

Then it was Kenda’s turn, and he stood up and swaggered forward — enjoying the attention of the Elders.

“My name is Kenda,” he said.

“And what is your decision, Kenda?” asked Old Kahl.

“I will descend below and search the western caverns,” he said, and returned to the waiting Initiates.

I smiled to myself. Trust Kenda to go for the easy option.

Old Kahl’s gaze found mine and he nodded. I stood, heart thudding, and stepped forward.

I said my name, the sound catching in my throat.

“And your decision, Par?” asked Old Kahl.

I took a breath. “I will climb,” I said, aware of the indrawn breath of my people. “I will climb into the eastern valley and from there ascend to the mountaintop. There I will follow in Old Old Old Marla’s footsteps and return with wondrous stories.”

I felt the Elder’s eyes bore into me as a commotion passed through my people.

Old Kahl inclined his head. “You have decided. So be it,” he said.

I returned to the Initiates and sat down beside Nohma, and only then, as I turned to smile at her — and beheld her shocked, wide-eyed expression — did I understand the full enormity of what I had done.

Then Nohma was standing and approaching the Elders. She told them her name, and they asked her to state her intentions.

In a daze I heard her say, “I, too, will ascend to the mountaintop with Par, and follow in the brave footsteps of Old Old Old Marla.”

Another hubbub arose from the crowd behind me, if anything louder than the commotion that had greeted my decision.

The Elders conferred, and Old Kahl turned to Nohma and said, “You have decided. So be it.”

She turned and strode back to my side, a look of triumph on her face.

Secretively, so that the gesture would not be seen, she reached out and gripped my hand.

If that were not sufficient drama for the day, Kenda then leapt to his feet and approached the seated Elders. “Beg my forgiveness,” he blurted. “But I wish to alter my decision.”

A gasp went up from our people.

The Elders stared at him. Even Old Old Old Theka roused herself and leaned forward, staring at the tall youth.

They fell into a huddle and debated, and a minute elapsed, then two, and a tense silence prevailed along the terrace.

Fear lodged in my belly like bad crab meat.

At last the three straightened up, and Old Kahl stared at Kenda and said, “Please state the reason for your change of mind, Kenda.”

Kenda swallowed, and flung out an arm to gesture behind him, indicating Nohma and myself. “I… I think that Par and Nohma have made a brave decision. Who knows what wonders they will find up there, wonders which might be to the benefit of our people. But… but I think it will be safer if three people were to make the ascent.”

I lowered my head. I could have wept.

“I wish to accompany Par and Nohma to the mountaintop.”

The crowd erupted. The Elders called for silence while they conferred again, and I willed them to find against Kenda, to rule against his spiteful change of mind.

I wanted the glory of the ascent to myself and Nohma; I wanted generations of our people to talk of our exploits around the glow-coals for many hundreds of winters to come. And I did not want the insufferable Kenda to share in that glory.

Then Old Kahl looked up, straight at Kenda. “So be it,” he said. “There is wisdom in your words. You will join Par and Nohma on their ascent.”

I wanted to cry out in disgust, but restrained my protest. Much to my comfort, Nohma squeezed my hand again.

As Kenda turned and walked back towards us, he found my gaze and smiled.

We set off at twilight.

A procession of our people, mainly children, followed us to the upper plain, cheering us on our way. Their enthusiasm had not been matched by the reaction of the adults: some had shunned me in the hours of preparation before we embarked; others had called me a fool to my face, and questioned the wisdom of endangering others besides myself. I declined from stating the obvious: that it was not my decision, but Nohma and Kenda’s.

We each carried a giant crab shell, scraped thin to make it lighter; these would protect us from the worst of the sun if we failed to find adequate cover during the daylight hours. We also carried three gourds of water each, no more and no less than the quota allowed those Initiates descending Below. I had protested to Old Tan when he had doled out the water. “But those who go Below do not have the heat to fear, and at journey’s end they might find water.”

He had merely smiled and said, “Argue with Old Old Old Old Old Tenka, who made the rules hundreds of winters ago.”

In my backpack fashioned from dried cactus skin I carried three chunks of sun-dried crabmeat, dried app and pearlys and some strips of cactus flesh. We would be away for fourteen nights, and I knew that these rations would not last that long. We would be forced to find food on our travels.

We trudged through the sand of the upper plain, and one by one our followers fell away. Kenda forged ahead, the fool, expending energy in trying to impress Nohma. With the broad shell of the crab on his back, and his thick legs pumping away through the sand drifts, he looked like a crab that had taught itself to walk upright.

Nohma and I walked side by side, conserving our energy, the edges of our crab shells occasionally clanking together.

At one point, no longer hearing the chatter of our followers, I stopped and turned.

The moon-silvered sandy plain was quite deserted. The stars were out in their millions, and along with the gibbous moon they were our only witnesses. I thought of our people back in the caves, enjoying the warmth of the glow-coals and Old Tan’s stories.

I shivered and felt suddenly lonely.

As if sensing my mood, Nohma reached out and took my hand.

We left the upper plain and climbed the slope of the eastern valley, following a path worn over countless winters by first crab-hunters and then by our own crab-farmers. Mountains loomed close on either side, shutting out the starlight. Many hours passed as we climbed steadily. Ahead, limned against the first light of morning, I made out the distant mountain peaks. According to Old Tan, Old Old Old Marla had found a track that led from the eastern valley and zigzagged up to an escarpment beyond the central mountain. It was here, so the story went, that she had stumbled across the ancient dwelling places and the blackened people.

The light in the east intensified, gold at first and then white. The heat increased, the humidity making the air as thick as broth. We slowed, despite having to reach the foothills that reared a thousand man-lengths before us. We were panting, Nohma and I, and the shell was a dead weight on my back.

At one point Kenda turned and shouted, “Hurry up! Do you want to burn to death when the sun comes up!”

I ignored him and glanced at Nohma. Sweat coursed down her face. She gave a brave smiled and we trudged on.

The rim of the sun showed itself over the mountainous horizon, glowing as red as an old coal and spanning the escarpment for what looked like a million man-lengths. As I stared, before I could take the glare no more and had to look away, I made out strange tendrils and loops that rose from the hemisphere and whipped about like the antennae of a dying crab.

The valley narrowed. The sandy path inclined and climbed. The sun rose, and with it the punishing temperature. We faced the prospect of walking the last few hundred man-lengths under the full glare of the sun. The shell felt like two men upon my back. I wanted nothing more than to stop and take a long, long drink of water.

What seemed like an age later we came among tumbled rock, and I said to Nohma, “I can’t take another step. I know what — let’s place our shells across two of these rocks and shelter until nightfall.”

She looked about her, then shook her head. “And roast to death? Not me.” She pointed ahead. “Look, the hillside climbs. A short walk and I’m sure there’ll be caves.”

I looked, and said, “Where’s Kenda?”

There was no sign of our companion on the path before us. “I’m not bothered where he is,” Nohma said. “Come on.”

We trudged on, climbing the rocky, twisting path between boulders taller than a man. The sun was beating down upon us now without mercy, and I felt my exposed skin burn beneath its glare. “It’s no good,” I panted. “We must stop. There, look, between those rocks.” I pointed to a likely fissure which would afford — with our crab shell canopies — a small measure of cover.

Nohma paused to look, and shook her head in disgust.

“Then what do you suggest!” I cried out in frustration.

At that very moment, a call from high above prevented Nohma’s angry reply.

“You down there! Look up!”

We did so, and beheld Kenda standing in what looked like the mouth of a cave high above. He was leaning against the arched rock, as if he owned the place, and he seemed to be laughing at our discomfort.

Gratefully we struggled up through the tumbled rocks and joined him.

“We thought we’d never get out of the burning sun!” Nohma greeted him, and looked into the dark, cool shade of the cave. “You’ve found a fine retreat here, Kenda!”

“I wonder if Old Old Old Marla made use of it,” he said, throwing a glance my way.

I ignored him. I dropped my crab shell, my backpack and gourds, panting hard.

We retreated further into the cave and unpacked our evening meal of cactus flesh and flavoured water. I ate slowly and in silence, relishing every juicy mouthful. Later we watched the sun climb, magnificent in its fiery entirety — before the heat drove us further into the cave’s shadows.

That day, in the darkness of the cave, I made love to Nohma with greater passion than ever before, making her shout and squeal and hoping that Kenda could hear everything.

At one point during the night I woke, in need of emptying my bladder. I moved to the entrance of the cave. The sun was on the other side of the sky now, and soon twilight would be descending. I was surprised to find Kenda crouching in the natural arch of the rock, staring down the long valley.

I stood beside him and pissed across the hot rock.

When I’d finished, I leaned against the rock wall and asked, “Why did you decide to join us, Kenda?”

He stared down the valley. “As I said, there is safety in threes. In twos, if one of you were to have an accident, then the one remaining might lose heart, and courage, and weaken. With three, that is less likely to happen. The two survivors would give each other support, succour.”

“Fine words, “I said. “But I for one do not intend to meet with an accident.”

He did not reply immediately. But then he shifted his gaze from the valley and stared at me. He smiled. “You can never be too sure about such things,” he said.

I pushed myself from the wall, moved back into the shadows and pulled Nohma’s nakedness to me.

We set off at twilight, moving through a pass in the hills, and all night walked the length of a rock-strewn valley slung between two peaks. Towards dawn, with the sky roseate in the east, we made our way through another pass — scouting all the while for suitable cover. Unlike the previous day, we found none until we had passed between the peaks and emerged on the other side. Here it was I who found the long, low crevice between two great slabs of rock — high enough to allow us to stand, and deep enough so that we could sleep in its nethermost shadows.

We ate sitting on the flat slab of rock overlooking the high plateau that we would cross that evening. I was feeling pleased with myself at having found the cave, levelling the score between Kenda and me.

As I chewed dried crab meat, Nohma leaning against me, I swept an arm at the expanse before us. “Hundreds and thousands of winters ago,” I said, “all this, everything we can see apart from the mountain peaks themselves, was submerged beneath more water than you can imagine. Old Tan tells of the time, many winters ago, when explorers found the bones of armless animals that lived in the water — great long things twenty times as big as the biggest crab! Imagine that!”

Beside me Nohma was staring into the distance, wide-eyed. Kenda looked unimpressed.

“And you know how Old Tan adds fanciful details to his stories,” he said. “For all we know there was no water filling the valleys; there were no dwelling places on the mountaintops. And there were certainly no people living there.”

I wondered if he were arguing against me because he really believed what he was saying, or because he wanted to ridicule me before Nohma.

I stared at him. “Very well, then, what do you think, Kenda? Where did we come from? Was there water filling all the valleys, all across the face of the Earth?”

He sneered at me. “Old Tan’s a fool, an entertaining fool, but still a fool. And Old Hath before him — whose stories were even more fanciful and absurd! They tell such tales to amuse children, to while away the daylight hours so we don’t get bored and fight amongst ourselves.”

“That’s rubbish!” I said. “Their stories are true, or are based on truths. Who knows, even greater things than what they tell might have happened, long ago. Wonderful things! Why, Old Hath says that our people, many winters gone, came across the shell of a… a thing… that moved across the desert like… like a crab on wheels!”

Kenda flung his head back and snorted with laughter. “Listen to him. A giant crab on wheels! Whatever next, Par? You’ll be telling us that our ancestors could fly!”

Enraged, I stared at Nohma. “What do you think. Nohma? You believe, don’t you? You believe that there was more than just what we have now? You believe that once we lived on the mountaintops and had more water than we could possibly drink, and we had things that moved across the deserts on wheels!”

Nohma was watching me, as I ranted, with a sweet accepting expression on her face. She smiled and said, “To be honest I don’t know what to believe. But I do believe that, one way or the other, we might find out over the course of our initiation. Now, I’m tired. Are you coming, Par?”

And so saying, she rose from her cross-legged position, unfolding herself with a sinuous grace, and padded deep into the cave’s shadows.

Ignoring Kenda, I pushed myself upright and joined her.

On the third night we crossed the silver sands of the high plateau, passed through a range of serried hills and came to yet another saddled plateau hammocked between two lofty mountain peaks. Ahead we made out, against the full moon, the rise and fall of the mountains beyond which Old Old Old Marla had made her discoveries.

I tried to discern the shapes of dwellings on the distant skyline, but the horizon was too far away to see anything but the line of jagged mountain peaks.

“Where are your dwellings and wheeled crab-things now, Par?” Kenda sneered. “Come to that, where are all the other things that would be lying around if we had covered the Earth in our millions?”

I ignored his taunts and trudged on, staring ahead.

His words made me uneasy. Where was the evidence of teeming life on Earth? Surely millions of people would have left behind some trace of their existence? When you looked about the Valley where we lived now, and looked closely at the Caves, you could see all manner of things that denoted our presence, from carved bones to discarded wood, from the way we farmed in stepped terraces to the trees we planted in orderly rows.

But all there was at this rarefied elevation, between the mountain peaks, was sand and more sand, and tumbled rocks and giant boulders — no sign that humankind had come this way at all, never mind settled and tamed these wild lands.

Perhaps, I fell to thinking as we slogged on through the drifting sands and daybreak approached, as the heat increased and the humidity became almost drinkable, and the crab shell weighed heavily on my shoulders — perhaps Kenda was right and all the fabulous stories told by Old Tan were no more than lies spun to while away the daylight hours and keep our people amused. Perhaps humankind had always scrabbled for existence in caves at the very bottom of the world.

Perspiration ran in a cataract down my chest and soaked the waistband of my loincloth. Every step was a painful labour. The crab shell weighed twice as much, I swear, as it had when we set off. It was the fourth night of our travels and we were halfway across the silver plateau.

Kenda called a halt. We caught up with him and squatted, breathing hard. We looked ahead.

Kenda voiced my fears. “Daybreak is about two hours off. How long before we reach the next range?”

We stared ahead, at the jagged line of mountain peaks that sliced into the night-sky. The foothills were many hours away, and I said as much.

“So why don’t we walk on for another hour or so, and then pitch camp for the night?” He dug his bare heel into the sand and said, “The ground is soft. We’ll dig a trench, as deep as we can, and arrange the shells across the top. This way we’ll be in better shade than merely lying under our shells above ground.”

We nodded; what he said made sense, though I resented him for taking the initiative. I saw Nohma regard Kenda with renewed respect.

We drank a little water and then set off again.

We strode three abreast. I ensured that I was between Nohma and Kenda.

At one point he said, “So much for all Old Tan’s tales.”

“What do you mean?” I snapped.

“Dwellings, artefacts — and people no longer human? I don’t see any evidence of these, do you?”

I said, “We aren’t there yet. We aren’t where she saw them. When… when we reach the far escarpment,” I panted, “then… then we will see all these things, and more.”

Kenda laughed. “And what about the crabs? The giant crabs that Old Tan said Old Old Old Marla encountered — three times the size of those back at the Valley? Where are they?”

I shook my head. “I’ve no doubt they exist.”

Kenda sneered. “I have every doubt. And the absence of giant crabs makes me doubt everything else Old Tan told us about Old Old Old Marla’s journey, and every other story he told us.”

“There’s no reason to disbelieve–” I began.

“I mean, all his fine words about the world filled with water! Where’s the evidence, Par?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I turned to Nohma. “What do you think?” I asked her.

She stared ahead. “I honestly don’t know, Par,” she said with a tired sigh.

We walked on in silence for an hour. Not for the first time I was thinking how much better the journey would have been without Kenda to spoil things. It would be just Nohma and I, without Kenda’s constant undermining of my certainties. I had no doubt that he didn’t believe half of what he was saying — he was playing the naysayer in order to rile me.

At our backs, the sun whitened the eastern sky and we stopped and scraped a trench in the sand. When it was waist deep we arranged the three shells across the tops like shields and huddled in the welcome shade. I had ensured that the ditch was wide enough to accommodate the three of us with room to spare; I did not want to have Kenda too close to Nohma that day.

We ate a little of our provisions, drank a little water, then settled down to sleep — as the heat increased and the crab shells tinted the light within the trench a nacreous pink.

Kenda was soon snoring, and then Nohma was asleep against my shoulder. I lay awake unable and, I admit, unwilling to sleep: I did not trust Kenda being so close, and anyway my thoughts raced with resentment. I suspected Kenda had suggested this sleeping arrangement — as opposed to our huddling individually under our own shells — in order for him to be close to Nohma. I had seen the glances he had cast at her breasts and buttocks as we walked.

The heat increased, and hours later I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

I was awoken as the sun set on another searing day. The twilight deepened. Kenda was fast asleep, but his left leg was outstretched and he had lodged his foot beneath Nohma’s bottom.

I kicked out, viciously, shifting his legs and waking him instantly.

“What?” he shouted, startled.

“Watch where you’re putting your filthy feet!” I spat.

Instead of arguing, or denying what he had been doing, he merely gave a sly, sidelong leer and said nothing.

Nohma woke and stared from Kenda to me, aware that something had passed between us. I suggested that we quickly eat and be on our way.

I reckoned that we were just two hours from the mountain range — the last one before the escarpment. The night cooled around us as we walked, and I felt a renewed confidence. This was night five of our Initiation, and we were perhaps another night away from Old Old Old Marla’s escarpment.

I said as much to my companions as we walked.

“We’ll be there by day six. That means we can stay a day before we must head back.”

Kenda looked at me. “And our rations? Don’t you realise that we’ve consumed more than half already?”

I shrugged. “So, we’ll have to eat and drink less on the way back.”

“I think we should get to the next range, then see how far ahead the escarpment is. If it’s more than a day away, then we should turn back.”

He was being deliberately provocative. I kept my anger in check and said, “But we know how far away we are — less than a day.”

He gestured ahead. “You don’t know that. You’re guessing. You can’t see the escarpment from here, Par.”

He was right, in that the escarpment was not visible.

“Very well,” I said, “we’ll reach the range and then see how far away the escarpment is. If it’s less than a day, we continue, agreed?”

He nodded. “Fine. But if it’s more than a day away, we turn back. Agreed?”

I acceded, angered by his mocking tone.

I was the first to make out the insubstantial, moon-etched shape that loomed ahead of us. I slowed, excitement building in my chest. The thing was about the length of a long terrace from us, but even at this distance it was huge.

“Look!” I cried, pointing ahead and to our right.

We stopped and stared, and then I led the way, walking fast in my eagerness to be the first to reach the bleached spars and struts of the… thing.

I slowed, my steps retarded by wonder. I looked up as I approached, craning my neck to take in the high vaulting immensity of the curiously bulky and yet insubstantial framework.

We drew together and stared.

“Bones,” I whispered. “It’s the skeleton of some… some great beast!”

“And look!” Nohma said, making a sweeping gesture that took in the creature’s length. “It had no legs!”

The largest bones I had seen before this were those of a goat, white and curved in miniature compared to this colossal beast. I walked its length, and rounded the long, serrated jawbone. I walked along its far side, reached out and touched a high arching rib that curved above me, five times the height of a man. Within the bleached cave of its ribcage I made out its great spine, long and knobbled like some freakish tree-trunk. Through the bones I saw Nohma and Kenda on the far side, reduced by the immensity of the creature’s remains.

I stepped under the arch of the ribs, walking towards my companions through what had been the creature’s belly, and stopped before them. I stared at Kenda, unable to keep a smile of triumph from my face.

“Do you believe Old Tan’s stories now?” I asked him. “Do you think that Old Old Old Marla was lying?” I looked from him to Nohma. “This was one of the beasts that lived long, long ago — many thousands of winters ago — the legless beasts that swam in the waters that filled the valleys — just as Old Old Old Marla claimed they did!”

I moved off, having made my point, and walked towards the creature’s tail-bones.

I was aware that Kenda had followed me only when he said, “Par.”

I turned. He was staring at me with ill-concealed contempt.

“This proves nothing,” he said. “It’s mere bones. Who said the creature swam in water?”

“Do you see its leg bones?” I said.

“Leg bones? What does that prove? Does a slug have legs — and do they live in water?” He flung a gesture at the skeleton. “This doesn’t prove that the valleys were filled with water — just that giant creatures once roamed the Earth.”

Behind him, I saw Nohma approach, an expression of concern on her face. Emboldened by her arrival, I laughed at him. “And yet you were the one denying the existence of giant crabs just a night ago!” I jeered.

“You little–!” he began, and unable to find a suitable expletive he pushed me in the chest.

I was not expecting his assault, and staggered backwards — tripping over one of many tailbones and falling hard against the segmented spine. I saw red, and in rage reached out and snatched up a long, white spar. Without thinking, and to Nohma’s horror, I leapt to my feet and swung the makeshift club at Kenda.

The blow hit the rim of his crab shell before striking his brow, or I might have crushed his skull. Even so, the injury was not slight. He cried out loud and staggered away, clutching his head as he fell to the ground.

“What have you done!” Nohma cried, and rushed to help Kenda to his feet.

“But he pushed me first,” I said pathetically, a sickening sensation churning my gut. I wished I could have relived those last few seconds, wished I could have taken back the strike — and knew it for a turning point in the journey.

Kenda hauled himself to his feet and faced me. Blood streamed from a gash on his forehead, dark in the moonlight. He stared at me, hatred in his eyes, then turned and marched away.

Nohma flung me a withering glance, then turned and hurried after Kenda.

Sickened by my actions, heart thudding in my chest, I set off slowly after them.

I allowed them to put the distance of a terrace between us, not wanting to be anywhere near Kenda and jealous that Nohma had elected to accompany him.

My pace slowed as the day broke at my back. We were climbing towards a pass in the mountain range. I stared around at the desolate landscape, thinking that I could have been far underground and cool, prospecting for water. Ahead, Nohma and Kenda were tiny figures, side by side.

In time they disappeared from sight as they climbed between two jagged walls of rock. I began to feel uneasy, out there all alone. I realised, to my surprise, that I was still clutching the tailbone with which I had hit Kenda. I looked around me and hefted the club: if a giant crab should attack me now, I would be prepared. However, despite my brave resolve I felt far from confident.

I passed between the slabs of rock. My shadow sprawled ahead. The sun had risen, and I was thankful for the protection of my shell. We had only just made the range in time.

I came to the crest of the pass and stared ahead. I saw a steep upward slope which terminated in the escarpment, no more than two or three hours distant. Elation swelled in my chest. I looked around for Nohma and Kenda, but they were nowhere to be seen.

I felt a moment’s panic, and resisted the urge to call their names.

Then, to my relief, I heard Nohma called my name. “Par. Up here.”

I looked up. Nohma was standing on a boulder before the dark entrance of a cavern. She gave a brief wave and retreated into the shadows.

Wearily I climbed over the tumbled rocks, wondering at my reception. By the time I reached the opening, I had decided what I should do.

Kenda sat in the mouth of the cave, sullenly eating his rations. He didn’t look up as I climbed over the boulder and looked down at him. Nohma sat opposite him, her small teeth tearing at a strip of dried crab meat. Her gaze flicked my way, her face expressionless.

Then Kenda looked up, glancing from me to the bone I was still gripping. “Are you planning to hit me again, Par?”

I looked down at the bone, then tossed it aside.

I licked my dry lips and found my voice. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have hit you. That was wrong.”

He stared at me. I was aware of Nohma’s eyes on me, too. Kenda said, “You should have thought about that before you attacked. Contrition is all very well after the deed.” And so saying he stood, picked up his backpack, and retreated into the darkness of the cave.

I looked at Nohma. “I am sorry, but he shouldn’t have pushed me. You saw him.”

“He should not have pushed you, but you should not have struck him, Par. Your action was the worse. I hope you know that.”

I felt my stomach turn. Of course I knew that. “I’m sorry,” I said.

She stared at me. “No, you’re just sorry for yourself.”

She stood up and, without another glance at me, turned and walked into the shadows of the cave. I watched her go, gripped by impotent fury and self-pity.

I sat in the mouth of the cave and stared out across the slope towards the escarpment, protected from the burning sun by the bulk of the rock at my back. I ate a little dried cactus and drank a few mouthfuls of water, wondering if Nohma had elected to sleep with Kenda. I was too afraid to sneak into the darkness of the cave and find out for sure, and yet not knowing was an exquisite torture.

I retreated a little way into the cave as the temperature climbed, curled up on the hard ground and slept.

I awoke with a start as twilight descended, then memories of yesterday rushed in to fill my empty mind. I recalled attacking Kenda, and Nohma’s reaction. They were back there together, I realised, and felt sick to my stomach at the thought.

I moved to the entrance of the cave and stared out.

I saw movement to my left, the quick darting of a slight, black shape — there and gone in an instant. I stared at where I thought I had seen the movement, but saw nothing. I wondered if I were hallucinating.

I stared ahead again, towards the escarpment — and there it was again, on the periphery of my vision. It was not so much a shape, a figure, as a dark flicker of motion — like the quick flicker of a lizard as it darts into the safety of a crevice. As I stared, something else flicked on the edge of my vision, and then another. I turned my head again and again, but I was never fast enough to catch a full glimpse of whatever was playing games with me.

I was about to retreat into the cave and tell my companions, when I made a far greater discovery.

I wondered why I had not seen it before, then realised that only the strengthening starlight had revealed the object. The length of five terraces from where I sat, on the opposite embankment that rose to the escarpment in a scatter of scree and larger boulders, was a dark, rearing V-shaped object. It was clearly not natural, and I was gripped by excitement at the discovery.

I leapt to my feet and stumbled into the darkness of the cave. I came across the shadowy form of Nohma first, my heart bursting with joy at the fact that she was not curled with Kenda.

“Nohma!” I cried. “Come and see this — quickly!”

She rose and peered at me. “Par?”

“I’ve found something!” I said. “Come and see.”

Kenda emerged from the back of the cave, scratching his armpit. “What have you found, Par? Another giant slug?”

I ignored him, turned and led Nohma to the entrance of the cave. “Look!” I said, pointing.

She stared. “But what is it?”

I shook my head. “Whatever it is, it’s vast. Look, it reaches up halfway to the escarpment.”

“I… I’ve never seen anything so… so…”

She was lost for words, and I supplied, “So regular, so unnatural, so human-made.” I excited myself with the phrase.

“But what is it? Why would anyone make such a thing? And from what?”

“It can only be wooden, Nohma,” I said, and glanced at Kenda who had joined us. “What do you think?”

Scratching the area around his scabbed forehead now, as if to remind me of my moment of violence, he looked across the ravine. I could see that he was trying not to be impressed, despite himself.

“Well?” I prompted.

He shrugged. “A trick of the light,” he said. “How come we didn’t see it at sunrise?”

“A trick of the light?” I laughed. “Look at it! It’s there — you can’t deny that!”

Nohma said, “It’s no trick, Kenda. It’s certainly there.”

I turned quickly. I had seen a shape flicker at the extremity of my vision. “What?” Nohma asked.

“You didn’t see it? A… a quick shape, a black flicker.”

Kenda laughed. “You were too long under the sun yesterday, Par. You’re seeing things. There’s nothing there.”

I stared at him, then back at the rearing V-shaped thing across the ravine.

“There’s only one way to find out for certain,” I said. “Come, let’s set off and see for ourselves.”

I shouldered my backpack, and then lifted my shell and shrugged it onto my back, arranging the straps for comfort.

Kenda made no move. “Well?” I said.

He stared at me. “I’m not coming,” he said.

I was taken by the sudden, rash urge to hit out at him again — and I was glad I had discarded the bone yesterday. “Not coming?” I said in disbelief.

“I’m turning back. We’ve been out here long enough. It was a fool’s errand, from the start. We’ve almost run out of provisions, and I don’t think we’ll find any out here, do you?”

“You can’t turn back yet.” I gestured hopelessly across the ravine. “What about…?”

He shrugged. “What does it matter, Par? So what if we find some scraps left behind by our people, long ago? So what? What does it matter, what does it mean? It can’t feed us, it can’t make the crops grow any better. It’s useless!”

I just stared at him, speechless. I was unable to articulate what it meant to me, what wonder swelled in my chest at the thought of previous generations dwelling in this realm, and constructing great things that we had never even dreamed about; I could not refute his claims, and this angered me.

“But you said that if we could reach the escarpment in less than a day, then we’d continue. And we’d reach it in a matter of hours…”

He smiled at me. “That was before you proved yourself to be a homicidal maniac, Par. I’ve changed my mind. The sensible thing is to turn back now.”

“But I apologised,” I began, impotently.

“I still don’t want to spend any more time with someone who wants me dead.”

“I… I don’t want anything of the kind!” I cried.

He stared at me. “Oh, don’t you?”

And, of course, under the harsh scrutiny of his gaze, I had to look away.

I said, “I’m going. I’m crossing the ravine and investigating the… whatever it might be. And then I’m climbing to the escarpment to see what Old Old Old Marla found there.” I turned and stared at Nohma, and my heartbeat almost deafened me. I took a breath and said, “Nohma, are you coming with me?”

She looked at me, her lips parted as her brain worked. I could not read her expression as conflicting emotions warred behind her huge brown eyes.

To provoke her, one way or the other, I turned and picked my way over the boulders and down into the ravine. I held my breath all the way, not daring to look back. I did not know, then, in my young heart, whether I loved the slight, beautiful girl called Nohma, or hated her.

Long seconds later I heard her call out. “Par! Wait for me. I’m coming!”

Then I did turn and watched as she shrugged on her crab shell and hurried down to meet me, and my heart surged with a combination of victory and love.

Then I saw Kenda move behind her. At first I thought he was preparing himself to leave us, but then I saw — once he had donned his backpack and then his shell — that he too was making his slow way over the boulders to join me. I smiled to myself. I would rather he had retraced his steps and left us, but I knew that his capitulating like this meant that I had won a significant victory.

Nohma joined me, found my hand and squeezed. Under the constant light of the massed stars we made our way across the ravine towards the mysterious, ancient object.

Only as we climbed, and the great dark wedge became outlined against the starry night sky, did we realise how colossal it was. I refrained from turning to Kenda, who dallied in our wake, and asking if he thought it was an illusion now.

We stopped at the very foot of the great V and stared up in awe. The thing was embedded in the side of the hill, and I could see that the V that presented itself to us was but part of a much greater object. I approached the sheer face that sloped away above us, reached out and pressed a hand against the surface. It was pitted, and was covered in some granular but dusty substance. In the starlight it appeared as red as Old Gren the Waterman’s hair.

I stared up at the V as it broadened towards the stars; it was fully fifty men high, or the height of two terraces laid end to end.

“What is it?” Nohma whispered.

I glanced at Kenda. Despite his earlier scepticism, he was staring with big eyes at the object.

I said, “It is something… something made by our people, long ago, Nohma.”

“Yes, but what can it be? Why did they make such a thing?”

I could only shake my head and admit my ignorance.

I turned quickly as a fleet shape disappeared behind a boulder to my right. Kenda took the opportunity to say, “Seeing things again, Par?”

I ignored him and gestured towards the slope. A gully or natural cutting rose beside the left-most flank of the V, climbing towards the escarpment. The way was strewn with scree of all sizes, from small stones to boulders as big as crabs. The going would not be easy, but that would not prevent my ascent.

I led the way.

As we climbed, from time to time I stopped to inspect the great curving flank of the V. I made out a line of small protuberances, perhaps the size of my fist, positioned at regular intervals across the surface. As we approached the mid-point of the V — with the length of a terrace to the lip of the escarpment high above us — I made out an aperture in the object. From this hole emerged a series of thick oval objects, each one curved around the next in a great interlocking chain, like a necklace Nohma had once woven from winterflowers. This chain dropped vertically from the top of the V and disappeared into the earth at our feet.

“What is it?” Nohma said, shaking her head.

“I know,” I said.

Kenda stared at me. “Listen to him!” he said. “How can you possibly–”

“It’s a ladder,” I said. “Just like the Watermen use to reach the lower caverns.”

Kenda snorted. It was a strange ladder, I’ll admit that — but I could see how someone could climb the chain by inserting his feet in the holes between each link. And to prove the point I slipped my right foot into the first link that emerged from the ground, then my left foot in the one above that.

Then, wanting to impress Nohma, I swarmed up the chain until I was fully ten man-lengths above my companions. I stared down at them, and then waved, holding onto the chain with my free hand.

Nohma seemed tiny, far below me. “Please, Par, come down!”

“There’s nothing to fear,” I said. I craned my neck and made out where the chain curved over the edge of the aperture perhaps forty man-lengths above my head. “Watch!”

I climbed the chain, inserting one foot above the other and pulling myself up, halting only once to stare down at Nohma and Kenda. They were much reduced now, like tiny ants as they stared up at me.

I looked up. Another ten man-lengths and I would reach the aperture. I wondered what I would behold then, as I reached the very summit of the V?

Taking deep breaths, as the ascent had exhausted me, I resumed my climb. Five minutes later I approached the horizontal slit in the flank of the V, then made the last push towards the top and slipped through the slit. I lay on my belly and stared down the other side. A short drop below me was a level surface, manufactured from the same material as the flank of the V, though the jagged edge of the platform suggested that it had suffered some great calamity. I stared past the torn margin of material, but made out only darkness beyond.

I jumped down and landed on bended legs, and looked around me. I was on the inside of the construct, surrounded by the shell of the material, which was marked by horizontal and vertical ridges, and more of the fist sized protuberances. I approached the aperture through which the great chain curved, stood on tip-toe and inserted my head. I stared down, called out and waved.

“Nohma!”

They stared up at me, their faces pale in the starlight. They were impossibly tiny, and oddly foreshortened from my perspective.

I called down, “I know what this is! A dwelling where our ancestors lived. A great space like a cavern, but above ground. The rest of the dwelling is buried in the side of the mountain.”

“Be careful!” Nohma called out, her voice made tiny by the distance.

I waved again and moved from the hole. I turned and, cautiously, approached the torn lip of the surface on which I stood, and peered over the edge.

I made out a shadowy space, vaster than any cavern I had beheld.

I heard a distant voice: Nohma, crying out. I turned and darted towards the slit and peered down. “Par!” she cried. “Above you!”

Heart thudding at her alarm, I looked up. Above my head, where the sloping ground of the ravine continued above the edge of the V, a huge crab stared down at me with eyes on the end of waving antennae.

It was perhaps two man-lengths above me, its pink shell pulsing up and down on multiple legs. Two great claws, one larger than the other, made pincering gestures in the air.

I lost control of my bladder and felt hot piss course down the inside of my leg.

Far below Nohma was screaming something, but I could not make out what.

The crab moved. It scuttled forward quickly, then stopped. Its claws waved, as if gesturing at me, asking some form of question in crab semaphore. At first I had thought the creature no taller than a man, and perhaps as broad, but now I could see that it was twice the size — a giant crab indeed. Old Old Old Marla was right, I thought, and had time to wonder what Kenda might be thinking now.

I heard Nohma, screaming my name again and again.

The crab pulsed up and down on the suspension of its multiple legs. It eyed me speculatively. I wondered if it had ever seen a human being before, and what it might make of me. A source of food, or a threat?

I had left my club outside the cave, and I sorely wished I had it now. In lieu of that weapon, I utilised my crab shell. Moving slowly, so as not to alarm the creature, I loosened the shoulder straps and pulled the shell over my head, holding it before me in the manner of a shield. Above its serrated rim I watched the crab as it moved tentatively towards me, then attacked.

Pain shot through my arm as its claw impacted with my shield. I staggered back with the force of its attack, then rallied, darted forward and battered at the advancing crab. I managed to knock it sideways, so that it was parallel with the edge of the chasm. It faced me, claws waving, but did not advance. Emboldened, I stepped forward and swung my shield, connecting with a loud clash of chitin. The crab staggered backwards, dancing on its nimble legs and teetering on the brink of the chasm. The momentum of my attack carried me forward. I stumbled and fell… and saw, as I dropped, the midnight shape of the crab come tumbling after me.

Then far below I struck something hard, and very painful, and all consciousness fled.

Sunlight brought me to my befuddled senses.

I cried out in alarm and attempted to move myself from the direct glare of the sun. I gasped as pain shot the length of my right leg, and glanced down. A long gash greeted my shocked gaze. The flesh of my thigh was peeled back to reveal strips of red meat and, shining white, a length of bone.

I glanced up. The rim of the sun was edging into the man-made chasm. Its merciless rays struck my lower leg, and its burning touch vied with the pain throbbing higher up. I had come to rest in a seated position, my back against the sloping inner plane of the V. I looked around me in panic, and realised that if I could move further to my right then I should be out of the direct line of the sun, for a little while at least.

I braced my arms against the ground, gritted my teeth, and attempted to drag myself into the shade. Pain clenched my thigh as if my leg was being amputated. I cried out, yelling at my foolishness in trying to show off to Nohma and Kenda. I collapsed against the wall of the V, and realised that, in spite of the pain, I had succeeded in dragging myself into the shade.

Though it would be only a matter of an hour, I reckoned, before the sun caught up with me again.

I looked around for my crab shell, so that I might cover myself in its protective dome, but it lay five man-lengths away, and anyway had split into two equally useless halves. Beyond it, I saw without the slightest satisfaction, my attacker lay on its back, claws spasming in death as semen-coloured ichor leaked from its cracked shell.

As much as I was suffering agonies of physical pain, it was nothing beside the mental despair that gripped me soon after. I calculated that hours had elapsed since I had fallen — for the night to have passed and the sun to have climbed so high — and yet what of Nohma and Kenda? Surely by now they should have climbed the chain ladder and attempted to rescue me?

Then it came to me that perhaps they had made the ascent, peered down and seen me lying inert, seemingly lifeless.

I thought of them leaving me for dead and climbing the rest of the way to the escarpment, then beholding the wonders that awaited them there. Or perhaps, as Kenda had wished earlier, they had turned tail and were making their way back to the Valley.

I felt for my backpack. Perhaps, if I nourished myself on my remaining provisions, drank the water I had saved, this might give me strength to crawl over to the crab, force apart its shell and feast on the meat within. Perhaps, with luck, if I could find sufficient shade, I might bide my time until my leg healed and I could escape from this man-made prison.

But my backpack was no longer on my back. I looked around in desperation and made out its hunched shape three man-lengths away, roasting in the rays of the sun.

I felt despair wash over me in a terrible wave.

I thought of Nohma, and the life she would lead without me. I wondered if she would grieve for long, and how soon it might be before she would consent to share a sleeping hollow with Kenda.

The notion only added to my pain.

I must have passed out then, because when I next opened my eyes I saw that the sun had crept across the ground towards me and was now only a hand’s breadth from my left leg.

I cast about for a welcome pool of shade, and saw none. The entirety of this ancient dwelling place, if such it was, was filled with the molten glare of hostile sunlight — other than the tiny slice of shadow in which I huddled.

I began to weep. I thought of my mother, long dead now, drowned while prospecting for water in one of the lowest caverns — drowned, what irony! While her only son would roast to death…

My father I had never known, though people told me that he was a tireless farmer, taken before his time, a victim of the green plague.

I thought of Nohma, and the life we might have had together.

Then I thought of Kenda, and how he might have seen me lying here, and instead of descending to see if I were alive or dead had instead returned to Nohma and told her that there was no hope. And now he would enjoy the girl I loved, would partner her and raise a family… The thought was unbearable.

I had no idea how much later it was when, the creeping sunlight a finger’s span from my foot, I heard a distant sound.

I shifted my position against the wall and managed to crane my neck and look up.

And what I saw filled me with hope.

A head, dark against the glare, peered over the edge. I raised a hand and called out weakly, “I’m here.”

A hand lifted in acknowledgement and I watched as the figure swung itself over the edge and climbed down the inside wall of the V, using the fist-sized protuberances as hand- and foot-holds.

I saw that the figure was Kenda and I felt a surge of relief, and then a quick shame that I had assaulted him the other night. I watched him climb down slowly; he was still wearing his crab shell to protect him from the heat of the sun, and this impeded his progress.

At one point he paused and peered down at me, then resumed his slow descent.

With Kenda’s help, I told myself, I would be able to climb out of this prison. He would bind my leg, bring water from my backpack. Within minutes I would be on my way out of here.

He paused a man’s-length above me, then jumped the rest of the way and landed in the narrow strip of shade.

“What happened?” he said, leaning against the wall of the V so as to be out of the direct glare of the sun.

“The crab,” I said, my throat parched. “It attacked me.” I pointed to the crab, its ichor bubbling now. “I fought with it, but we both ended up…”

He stared down at my leg, a look of distaste on his face. “That’s nasty.”

“Why… why did you take so long?”

“Crabs attacked us. Three of them–”

“Nohma!” I cried.

“We managed to beat them off. But it was unsafe on the slope. We climbed to the escarpment, hoping to find shelter where Nohma might hide while I came back for you.”

I stared at him. “What did you find?”

He looked away, fixing his gaze on my backpack as its material scorched in the sun. “Not much.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Things.”

“Dwelling places, like this one.”

“Not like this. Smaller.”

“But dwelling places?”

He shrugged. “Anyway, I left Nohma up there. She’s safe, in… in some kind of shelter.”

Elation swelled in my chest. “Wait until we get back to the Valley!” I said. “Wait until we tell our people!”

Kenda towered over me, staring down. His face was expressionless.

I said, indicating my backpack, “Do you think you could…? I have a little water, and some cactus. I’m thirsty.”

He looked from my face to the gash on my thigh, and remained standing there.

I said, “Get my backpack, will you? We can tear it into strips, bind my leg.”

Without a word he nodded and stared across at my backpack. It had been in the sunlight for so long that a small thread of smoke was rising from the material.

Kenda adjusted his crab shell and scuttled across to where my pack lay, reached out and grabbed it and returned to the scant margin of shade.

He looked from the backpack to me, then knelt and tore the shoulder straps from the pack. He hesitated, then said, “Lean forward.”

I obeyed, wondering at the reason for his command when he should have been attending to my leg.

He reached out with the strip of material and swiftly, before I could move to stop him, slipped the strap between my teeth and knotted it behind my head — effectively gagging me. Next, with the second strap, he bound my wrists together. I moaned and put up a feeble struggle, but succeeded only in aggravating the pain in my leg.

Then I was lying back against the sloping wall, staring at him as he opened my backpack and took out my gourd of water, the strips of cactus and three small chunks of crabmeat. These he stowed in his own pack and stared down at me.

I cursed him past the choking gag, but all that came out was a muffled sob.

I expected him to sneer, to gloat, but his face was expressionless as he said, “Nohma will grieve when I tell her that you’re dead — but only for a while. She’ll get over it.” Then he did smile. “I’ll make sure of that.”

I tried to speak again, begging him not to leave me.

“If I were you,” he said in parting, “I’d roll over into the sunlight now, and get it over with.”

Then he turned, glanced up at the sloping wall above him, and commenced his ascent, lodging his feet on the protuberances and hauling himself little by little up the slope.

I watched him go, hatred in my heart; I prayed that he would slip and fall to his death, but his ascent was slow and assured. More than anything I wanted to curse him, but all I could do was gag and sob. Rather than give him the satisfaction of hearing my pitiful protests, I fell silent as he reached the top and disappeared from sight without a backward glance.

I felt a stab of pain and looked down at my leg. The blade of sunlight had reached my thigh and was burning the flesh. I gasped and dragged my injured leg into the narrowing margin of shade. I was pressed up against the wall now. In minutes the sun would reach me again, and there would be nowhere to hide. I leaned over, into the glare, and reached out for my empty pack. The sun stung my exposed arm, a foretaste of the exquisite pain to come, as I dragged the material towards me and draped it over my left leg.

I wept. I had granted myself a reprieve of minutes only. I might as well have taken Kenda’s advice and rolled into the sunlight to hasten my inevitable death.

I watched the material of my pack turn brown and smoulder as the sun burned down. I could feel the flesh of my leg grow hot beneath the material. Soon the sun would reach the exposed flesh of my torso and burn me to a crisp. In an hour, perhaps less, I would be dead — and a day from now the sun would have cremated me, roasted my flesh and boiled my innards. I had once stumbled across a goat that had strayed from the caverns, fallen down a ravine and broken a leg. After one day in direct sunlight it was no more than a pile of bleached bones in a mess of charcoaled meat.

Something moved on the periphery of my vision. I looked up, sure that I had seen a black flash high up the wall of the V. I turned my head quickly. Something had moved to my right, on the facing wall.

I stared and moaned aloud as I made out fleet shapes swarming down the incline on both sides and crossing the sunlit ground towards me, nebulous shadows when in motion and only substantial when they halted.

I stared, incredulous. If crabs were not enough, now these… At least crabs were a known and familiar enemy.

Half a dozen small, stick-like beings faced me. They were half my height, and thin, with limbs like charcoal sticks and disproportionately bulbous heads. Their skin was black, as if burned, and as I stared I overcame my fear enough to wonder at how they could stand as they did in the full glare of the sun.

So Old Old Old Marla had been right — she had come upon small black creatures no longer human.

When they moved, they were a blur. Three of the six vanished in a smudge of motion, and reappeared beside the cooking corpse of the crab.

The remaining three regarded me with tiny black eyes. I pushed myself away from them, pressing up against the wall at my back.

One of the creatures reached out. Its fingers flickered towards my bound wrists and the knotted strap fell away. I reached up and tugged the gag from my mouth. “Who are you?” I asked. “What do you want?”

They were silent, regarding me with their heads tipped to one side.

Then a second figure reached out and passed me something — a tubular black column as thick as my arm and half as long. I took the object and stared at it.

Across from us, the other three beings were dismembering the crab. In seconds they had sliced its shell in two and scooped the meat from its innards. They piled the flesh on the ground, where it cooked in the sunlight with an aroma that set me salivating.

I stared from the black column to the being that had passed it to me. “But what is it?” I asked.

The creatures looked at me, and then stared at each other. One being reached out, took the column from me, and tipped it up while holding it to his mouth. I saw a droplet of liquid form upon the column’s rim and slip into the being’s slit of a mouth.

He passed me the column and indicated that I should copy the action.

I tipped the column to my mouth, and liquid slid into my mouth — sweeter than water, and much thicker, which quenched my thirst immediately.

The three remaining creatures picked up the crab’s shell and vanished, reappearing at my side. They tipped the shell on to its side and worked it into the earth so that it effected an efficient shield between the sun and myself.

Next, one of the tiny black beings knelt and lifted my leg, while another reached out and, faster than I could discern, wrapped something around my gashed thigh. I stared, incredulous. I could still see my leg through the dressing, but the wound had closed and the pain had abated to no more than a dull throb.

Now all six stood before me, staring with their tiny eyes.

And then, instantly, they were gone — but not before piling before me the cooked flesh of the crab.

I called out, sobbing, “Thank you. Thank you, whoever you are!”

It was as if the liquid had revitalised me — though how a simple fluid had done this was a mystery. I touched the invisible dressing that bound my injured thigh; I could feel something there, a smooth substance that resisted my fingers. Through the dressing I could see the line of the gash, which already appeared to be healing.

I picked up a gobbet of succulent flesh and tore at it with my teeth, then took another drink of fluid, feeling its cool sweetness fill me with life and energy.

I laughed aloud at my luck and marvelled at the fact of my salvation. I tried to imagine the expression on Kenda’s face when I apprehended him, when I came back from the dead and exposed his lie to Nohma.

I ate and drank and rested, relatively cool in the shade of the crab shell. Experimentally I flexed my injured leg. I could feel no pain now, and even the ache was diminishing. Perhaps an hour later I felt sufficiently recovered to attempt to stand, and did so fully expecting my leg to collapse beneath my weight. To my astonishment it held firm, without a tremor or spasm of pain. I sat down again quickly, as the sun was burning my face.

I collected the straps that had bound and gagged me, and fashioned them into a harness which I affixed to the crab shell. As I worked I thought ahead, to the time when I would locate Kenda and exact my sweet revenge.

I filled my pack with crab meat and hung it around my neck, then stood and lifted the shell onto my back. It was heavier than my old shell, as it had not been scraped thin, but not so heavy that I was unable to bear its weight. I slipped the liquid column into the band of my loincloth and stared up at the sloping face before me.

Then, taking a deep breath, I began my ascent, using the same protuberances that Kenda had employed. It was a long climb and hard, but the thought of Kenda’s reaction to my resurrection spurred me on.

Once at the top I rested and took a swallow of sweet fluid. I flexed my injured leg, feeling nothing, and climbed through the horizontal slit and down the hanging chain.

There, I knelt and examined the ground. I made out the scuffed marks of footprints, ascending the slope to the escarpment. I looked down the slope, noting the tracks we had made on our ascent but seeing no evidence of footprints heading in the other direction. So Nohma and Kenda were still above me, on the escarpment.

Smiling to myself in anticipation, I stood and began the climb.

One hour later I reached the lip of the escarpment and scrambled over its sandy, crumbling lip. Panting, I climbed to my feet and stared out across the sun-blasted plane.

There was nothing but bare earth for twenty man-lengths ahead of me, but then…

Dwellings, Old Old Old Marla had called them — but I had never seen their like before. They were grouped together before me, similar in shape to the domes of a crab but transparent, each one as high and as broad as a cavern. I counted twenty of these vast dwellings, where our ancestors had lived long ago when the sun was small in the sky and water filled the valleys. Now these domes were cracked like bloodshot eyeballs and scoured opaque by centuries of wind-borne sand.

I wondered at what marvels might be found inside, and for a time all thoughts of revenge were forgotten.

Then I saw the double trail of footprints leading from the lip of the escarpment towards the closest dome, and I set off in eagerness to tell Nohma of my wellbeing and assure Kenda that his crime would not go unpunished.

I slowed as I approached the dome, not wanting Kenda to be aware of my arrival. Their footprints made for a triangular rent in the fabric of the dome. Cautiously, my heart beating fast, I approached the accidental entrance and peered inside.

Sand had drifted through the gap and formed a dune, hiding the interior from view. I ducked through the rent and approached the sliding sands, aware by the divots in the slope before me that Nohma and Kenda had passed this way.

I climbed the drift, wondering what I might find on the other side.

I neared the crest and fell on my belly, advancing cautiously and peering over.

The dome was empty, or almost so. Around the edge of the dome were strewn the blanched skeletons of human beings, some complete while others consisted of scattered, disconnected bones. I stared in wonder at the closest, not a man’s-length from where I lay.

And tears came to my eyes, then, as I felt a strange emotion. I was not mourning the passing of these wondrous ancestors who had created things beyond the dreams of puny beings like myself; no, I was mourning the people we had become — for the skeletons of these humans, identical to our own remains in every respect but one, were fully three times the height of those of my own people.

Truly, these people had been giants.

I wondered at the dramas played out in this dome, at the enactment of the tragedy that had ended in the extinction of these people.

And now, in the amphitheatre before me, another drama — on a smaller scale but no less imbued with heartfelt emotion — was being played out between two tiny, puny creatures.

Nohma faced Kenda and cried, her words echoing around the hollow dome, “But I want to go back, find his body and return with it to the valley. He deserves that much.”

I listened to her and wept.

Kenda said, “It’s too dangerous! It was all I could do to climb out of there myself. We’d never manage it with a body.”

“But… But I loved Par! I can’t go back without him!”

My heart swelled, and before Kenda could reply I climbed to my feet and stepped over the edge of the dune, sliding silently down the other side towards them.

Kenda, facing me, looked up and stared. His mouth hung open, and fear entered his eyes.

Alerted, Nohma spun around and saw me, her expression one of utter disbelief.

I moved slowly through the scattered bones of our long dead ancestors and halted a man’s-length from where Nohma stood, staring as if at a ghost.

“Par?” she whispered, tearful. “Par?”

I looked past Nohma at Kenda. “He lied, Nohma. I was not dead when he found me, but he left me for dead, and lied to you.”

Kenda appeared frozen in shock. “You,” was all he could manage. “But how…?”

I said, “I was saved, Kenda, saved by beings with more compassion and more… humanity… than you will ever possess.”

“Beings?”

“The creatures Old Old Old Marla met on her journey here.”

“No,” he screamed, and launched himself at me.

His attack took me by surprise; he knocked me off my feet. I fell onto my back and he dropped on me. We rolled, fighting like maniacs. I was filled with the fuel of the righteous, Kenda with the fear of the damned.

He hit me in the face and I almost blacked out, and he dived upon me and pinned me to the ground. He stared around him, searching for a weapon with which to finish me off for good. He reached out for an old human bone, grabbed it and raised it above his head. He stared at me in hatred and swung his improvised club. I raised a hand in hopeless defence, and the bone cracked painfully against my forearm.

I gasped and saw movement behind him as Nohma approached, lifting something high above her head. Kenda raised the club again, aiming for my head — then screamed, his mouth wide in pain. I stared as a length of splintered bone erupted through his chest and drenched me with his lifeblood.

I tipped him off me, climbed to my feet and approached Nohma, who stood wide-eyed and staring down at what she had done. I pulled her to me as Kenda’s eyes glazed over in death.

“I… I killed him,” Nohma said, staring at his corpse.

“You saved my life,” I told her.

I led her from the amphitheatre, aware of flickering movement on the periphery of my vision. I wondered what the blackened beings had made of this, the latest human drama to be played out in this ancient, ruined venue.

“I see them,” Nohma murmured. “I saw them earlier, but I thought I was hallucinating.”

We huddled in the shade of the excoriated dome and held each other, and I described what had happened in the V-shaped dwelling down the slope, and how the tiny blackened beings had helped me. We ate crab meat and drank from the black column, and as twilight descended and the sun sank, we left the dome without a backward glance at Kenda’s corpse or a single word to commemorate his passing.

We made our way out into the cooling night and set off on the journey home.

Our return trek was not without drama.

That dawn, as we approached the cave on the far side of the ravine, we were attacked by two giant crabs. I despatched the first by tipping it from a high rock with my own shell, but in doing so I fell and twisted my ankle. I was entirely at the mercy of the second crab until Nohma, screaming in rage, attacked the advancing crab with a rock the size of her head and managed to crush its mandibles; then together we beat it off and retreated to the cave.

We slept the day and at twilight hurried outside and sliced the cooked meat of the dead crab and stored it in our backpacks. Now we would have sufficient food for the journey home, and the sweet water from the black column.

The following evening passed without incident, and at sunrise Nohma marvelled at the qualities of the black column. We were sitting in the entrance of a high cave, watching the dawn light creep across the valley far below.

“This is miraculous,” she said, tipping the column at her lips and taking a mouthful of the fluid. “It feels, Par, like drink and food combined.” She stared at the column. “And another thing. Think about it, Par — if it were water in here, then it would be empty by now, wouldn’t it? I mean, A gourd holds far more water than this thing, and still it’s not yet empty.”

I shook my head. “It’s magical,” I said, and thought of the dressing on my thigh, and the idea of these wondrous things possessed by the blackened beings made me, for some reason, very sad.

The following day we came across a tall green plant growing in the sand, which I was sure had not been there on our outward journey. From its thin branches hung small blue berries. I tried one, and found it succulent and sweet. We gathered more, filling our packs; we would dry the seeds and plant them when we returned home.

On the day before we reached our valley, we encountered crabs again — but these were no more than half my size, not the giants we had fought earlier, and they kept a respectful distance as we passed.

That twilight, as we set out on the last leg of our journey, I became aware of increased motion on the periphery of my vision. Nohma noticed it too. “Par?” she said, looking around her with a frown.

We were passing down a narrow valley, with high banks to right and left. As we stared, a strange thing happened. The flickering motion to right and left ceased suddenly, and the midnight blurs of activity became corporate. Nohma gasped, and I laughed aloud. A hundred silent, blackened beings looked down at us, utterly motionless.

I lifted a hand in farewell.

And then suddenly they were gone in a swarm of motion, flowing like liquid midnight up the valley and away from us.

That day we slept, and as twilight descended that evening we set off again, eager to reach home now and tell the tale of our Initiation.

Hours later we passed through the high plain, and came to the cutting and stopped on the crest, staring down. Tears came to my eyes as we beheld our home valley, with its stepped terraces rising on either side, and the orderly rows of app and pearly trees. Our people toiled on the terraces, and as we made our way down into the valley they looked up, and then stopped work and called to others in the caverns, and then hurried up the valley to meet us with embraces and a thousand questions.

That dawn, as we sat in the cavern around the glow-coals, I told my people of our exploits, of the giant crabs and the great dwellings made by our giant ancestors, of the blackened beings and their miraculous possessions. Fifty pairs of eyes stared in wonder as I described the vast V-shaped dwelling, and the domes on the escarpment. I told them of Kenda’s treachery, and how Nohma had saved my life as he attacked me, and how later she had saved me again when I had been at the mercy of a crab.

Later, I sat with Nohma at the entrance of the caverns, and stared out as the line of the sun edged across our valley. After a period of silence Nohma asked, “What are you thinking about, Par?”

And I replied, “The future.”

A short while later, Old Kahl and Old Tan approached and sat beside us. “Par,” Old Kahl said, “the time has come to appoint a new storyteller.”

Old Tan went on, “I am old now, and my memory is failing, and it is time I gave way to someone new. You have heard all my stories, and now you have brave tales of your own, and a way with words that I could never match.”

“Will you accept the honour?” Old Kahl asked.

I thought of all the storytellers over the years who had kept our history alive, who had recounted the exploits of previous generations, who told of the time when we did not live like insects in the caverns below ground.

“I accept,” I said, “but not immediately.”

Old Kahl frowned.

I said, “First, with your permission, I wish to mount an expedition. I want to take a dozen of our youngest, fittest men and women and journey back to the escarpment. I want to make contact again with the blackened beings, for they have much to teach us, and we have much to learn, and our people will benefit from the encounter.”

Old Kahl and Old Tan listened with bowed heads, and when I had had my say Old Kahl said, “We must take your proposal to the Elders, and discuss it with wiser heads than ours. But, in principle, I cannot see an objection to the idea of an expedition.”

And then they left us and we sat in the entrance and stared out across the valley.

I looked at Nohma. “And you will come too?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said. “Because if I do not, then who will be on hand to save your life?”

I smiled and fell silent, gazing out across the moon-silvered terraces.

Nohma asked, “What are you thinking about, Par?”

“The big skeletons we saw in the dome,” I said, “and the blackened beings.”

“What about them?”

“Nohma, what if many, many thousands of winters ago, the tall beings were the only race that lived on the Earth, and the sun swelled and burned up all the water, and humankind divided into two tribes. One tribe went underground, to the caverns, and the other… the other remained above ground, and became the blackened people.”

I would mount an expedition, I thought; I would march into the mountains with my brave band of men and women and we would meet the blackened beings, and I would find some way of communicating with these kindly creatures and I would ask them, as we shared food and drink beneath the stars, if we — the cavern-dwellers and the blackened people — were truly once, long ago, one people and the same.

My head swirled with the enormity of the idea.

Later, as the sun burned its way across the valley and the heat increased, we hurried below ground to my hollow and made love.